Bad Day
by Caz Dowse
Summary: Kyle comes home to find Stan waiting in his room, but everything is not as it seems - oneshot. Sorry Slash fans, this isn't a Style, it's more of an anti-Style. Rated T for violence and language.


**Bad Day**

**This is just a oneshot that's been lying in my drawer for ages, so I thought I might as well post it. I am still working on Just An Average Night At Willie's, I haven't forgotten about it!**

**I don't own South Park, the mighty Matt and Trey do.**

Kyle's Broflovski's trainers slipped and slid on the greasy pavement as he ran, the rain pelting him mercilessly. Thunder cracked threatingly overhead.

He swore. He hadn't had the best of days and this just topped it off. After school he and his friend Kenny McCormick had spent the rest of the afternoon at Butters' Stotch's house, as they had done every Thursday since The Incident, as Butters parents called it. Everybody else in South Park called it "The Time When Butters Stotch Nearly Killed Eric Cartman."

Kyle was a little sketchy on the details, because neither Butters nor Cartman ever spoke about it. All he knew was this: after taking years of taking Cartman's relentless bullying and beatings with a dopey smile, Butters had finally snapped, and, under the influence of his evil alter ago Professor Chaos, had made it his mission to rid the world of Eric Cartman. After various failed attempts on Cartman's life, Butters/Chaos managed to lure him up into the mountains where a showdown ensued, leaving Cartman close to death. While Cartman recovered, Butters was carted off to a mental hospital (holiday camp his parents told everyone) on the outskirts of Colorado until his release a few weeks previously, which was when Kyle and Kenny began their weekly visits. Kyle had only agreed to do it out of guilt – he hadn't exactly been kind to Butters himself over the years. That – and the desperation in the Stotches eyes when they'd asked him.

He ran up the drive and into his house, dripping from head to toe. He took off his coat and wandered through to the living room, where his mother Sheila, father Gerald and adopted Canadian brother Ike sat on the sofa watching the news. Kyle walked past them, heading for the kitchen.

"Oh, Kyle, you're back," Sheila said. "How is that poor boy?"

Kyle paused at the doorway. "He's OK," he said. "Making slow progress. Professor Chaos doesn't come through as much as he used to."

"Oh, good. By the way, Stan's here."

"He is?"

"Yes. He's upstairs in your room. I told him I didn't know what time you'd be back, but he insisted on waiting." Sheila looked extremely put out by this. "Somebody needs to tell that boy to have a shave. I don't know what his mother's been doing."

Kyle rolled his eyes. Sheila Broflovski was quite happy to criticise other people's parenting skills, quite forgetting her own consisted entirely of shouting a lot and declaring war on whichever organisation was pissing her off. He wandered into the kitchen, downed a glass of orange juice and quickly headed upstairs to avoid anymore of his mother's barbed comments.

When he reached his room, he realised something wasn't quite right. Inside it was pitch dark. The only sounds were the occasional clap of thunder and the continual hammering of the rain. Starting to feel uneasy, Kyle stepped inside.

"Stan?"

A well timed flash of lightning revealed a figure sitting hunched on the end of his bed.

"Mind if I put the light on?"

Kyle peered into the blackness and just about made out a shrug of the shoulders.

"OK then."

He flipped the light on and shut the door. Both boys blinked in the sudden glare.

"Hey Stan."

Stan Marsh looked at him for the first time.

"Hello _Kyle._"

Kyle didn't like the way Stan said his name, and liked the look in his eyes even less. Uneasiness growing, he approached his friend.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where have you been?"

The abrupt question caught Kyle completely off guard. "Um, er, Butters house." He took an involuntary step back as Stan stood up, then berated himself. This was STAN. "He seems to be a lot better. The doctors say nuggghhh-"

Kyle's head snapped backwards with the force of the punch that had just connected with it. He fell back onto the floor and stared at Stan, stunned. He'd been punched many times by Cartman, but this one hurt more than all of those combined. He put a hand up to his bleeding nose.

"Why did you – "

"I'm going to ask you again," Stan said coldly. "Try to answer without lying through your ass this time. Where've you been, Kyle?"

"I told you," Kyle whined. "I was at Butters house. I go every week. Why won't you believe me?"

Even Kyle wasn't prepared for what happened next. Stan pulled him up by his T-shirt and slammed him up against the wall. Books on some nearby shelves shook with the force.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Kyle shouted at him, seriously freaked now.

"I'll tell you what's wrong with me," Stan shouted back, his fury finally unleashed. "My so-called best friend screwing around with my girlfriend! That's what's wrong with me! I know about you and Wendy! I know how you two have been going together behind my back; I know how you made her choose between us. I know everything Kyle, and I fucking hate you right now." He took a deep breath. His emotions were all over the place – one minute he was angry, the next he just wanted to cry. How could one girl make him this crazy? "How could you do it to me, Kyle? You're supposed to be my best friend."

Kyle stared at him, open mouthed. "Wait, you think me and Wendy are…no! No, you've got all wrong, dude! Why would you even think…" His voice trailed off. His words were having no affect on Stan, who was starting to look angry again.

"I gave you a chance!" Stan yelled, his internal temperature nearing boiling point. "Why won't you just admit it? You've stolen her from me! You've been to see her tonight, haven't you?" No response. He slammed Kyle into the wall again. "HAVEN'T YOU!"

"NO!" Kyle yelled. "I didn't steal Wendy, and I haven't been to see her tonight!" He sighed deeply. He just wanted this day to be over. "I've been to Butters' tonight, and you can beat me black and blue if you want, but it'll still be the truth. If you don't want to listen to me, call Kenny. He was there too."

Kyle reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He thrust it towards Stan.

"Go on. Call him."

Stan took it, let go of Kyle and called the McCormicks' place. Kenny couldn't afford a cellphone of his own so if one of the boys wanted to get hold of him they had to call his home number, and most of the time that was cut off because of unpaid bills. If they did get through, they usually ended up speaking to either Kenny's insane mum or alcoholic dad, both of whom would spend half the call asking them for money. So calling Kenny was always a last resort.

Stan walked over to the opposite corner of the room, talking quietly. Obviously the McCormicks' phone was connected this time.

Kyle slumped to the floor, still reeling from Stan's attack. It was so unlike him. Stan was one of the most likeable people Kyle had ever known. Whenever there was a crisis in South Park – and there were a lot of crises in South Park – Stan would greet it with a shrug and an indifferent "OK". When the adults panicked, Stan would crack a joke. That Stan Kyle knew very well. This one, standing in his bedroom right now, he did not know and never wanted to.

Stan finished speaking and flipped the cellphone shut. He turned around.

"Well?" Kyle asked hopefully. Stan's expression was unreadable.

"Kenny's dead." Stan said without emotion. He put Kyle's cellphone down on his desk. "Got hit by a petrol tanker. Which takes us right back to square one."

Kyle groaned inwardly. Typical fucking Kenny. Just when you didn't want him to die...he did. Kyle could've killed him. He looked at Stan expectantly.

"Don't you wanna, you know, for old times sake?"

"What?"

"Oh my God…"

"Oh yeah. Oh my God, they killed Kenny," Stan said woodenly.

"You bastards!" Kyle said with only slightly more enthusiasm. "I guess we'll have to ask him tomorrow," he added.

"No way!" Stan said hotly. "I'm not leaving until I get the truth!"

"I've told you the truth. Over and over," Kyle said flatly. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I was at Butters' house. Why can't you just believe me? When have I ever lied to you Stan? Ever?"

Stan shook his head. "Cartman said you'd do this."

"Cartman? What has Cartman got to do with – " Kyle stared at Stan, then comprehension dawned. That fat bastard. "You believe _him_ over me? Jesus Christ, Stan!"

"He overheard Wendy and Bebe in the lunchroom. She told Bebe everything about you and her." Stan turned away and stared out at the rain. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "I didn't want to believe it, Kyle, I mean you're my best friend, you're like a brother to me. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. You've not exactly been _around_ lately, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. I've been busy. It's called life." Kyle could feel the anger building inside him. He couldn't understand why Stan would believe Cartman over him. 5 or 6 years ago that would have been unthinkable. Had he and Stan really drifted that far apart?

"What do you want me to do, Kyle?" Stan said, whirling round. "I feel like I barely know you anymore."

"I haven't changed. Neither has Cartman. Remember that."

"Why would he do that? Why would he lie?"

"Because it's CARTMAN!" Kyle yelled, his temper exploding. "He's been lying ever since he could talk! It's all he knows! This is the guy who went around telling all the girls that me and Kenny were gay so we wouldn't get dates to the Spring Ball!"

Stan stared at the floor in silence.

"Get out." Kyle said in a low voice.

Stan didn't move.

"I said GET OUT!" Kyle gave him a shove.

Stan looked at Kyle's skinny frame and laughed. "Make me."

Kyle punched him, and he staggered backwards. Kyle stood stock still, amazed despite the rage inside him. He was not a violent person. The only violent thing he'd ever done was playing "Kick The Baby" with Ike when he was younger.

Stan touched his bloody lip in shock. Then he advanced on Kyle, his face twisted with anger.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, spitting blood.

Kyle felt adrenaline surging through his veins as he clenched his fists.

"Bring it, bitch."

*

Kyle surveyed the wreckage of his room – and himself – with interest. He'd never been in a fight before, and he'd never felt so alive, not even when solving a difficult maths problem. Now he understood how those guys in _Fight Club_ felt.

Stan sat next to him, blood dripping from his lip.

"Sorry about your room, dude."

"S'OK." Kyle could feel his right eye beginning to swell up.

The two boys were sitting on the floor leaning against his bed.

"You think your mom'll be pissed?"

"Yeah. She'll prob'ly break my legs."

Stan nodded, then winced.

"Lucky they had the TV loud."

"Yeah."

They looked around Kyle's wrecked room. One of his wardrobe doors was hanging off its hinges. His books were scattered on the floor. His desk had been overturned, his computer and desk lamp smashed. The room looked like a crime scene.

"I'm sorry, Kyle."

Kyle looked at him through his good eye. "I told you, it's OK, dude."

"I don't mean about your room," Stan said, his voice cracking. "I mean about the whole you and Wendy thing. I guess I was just looking for someone to blame, and when Cartman said what he did…"

Kyle looked away. "It's OK, Stan."

"No, it's not. I know I've been a little crazy lately but I have to move on now, no matter how I feel. She has." Stan wiped his eyes.

"I'm really sorry things didn't work out for you and Wendy," Kyle said quietly. "I really am."

"Gaylord."

Both boys grinned.

"You wanna hear a joke?" Kyle asked.

"OK."

"Two ants walks into a vagina and one says: 'Hey, this isn't the anthole', and the other ant says: 'Nope, that's round back!'"

Both boys sat in embarrassed silence. Kyle almost expected to see tumbleweed bouncing across the floor.

"Why would an ant be in a vagina anyway?" Stan asked after a while.

"Beats me." Kyle got to his feet, various parts of his body hating him.

Stan got up, too. "The storm's over," he said, glancing outside. "I'd better go."

"Wanna kick Cartman's fat ass tomorrow?"

"Totally. You pin him down, I'll do the rest."

"Cool."

Stan walked to the door, then stopped. "Uh, Kyle…we are still friends, right?"

Kyle smiled. "Forever, dude."

*

After Stan had gone, Kyle bathed his wounds, then wandered back into his room. He had to call her. She had to know. He hunted round his room and eventually located his cellphone, which had been kicked under his bed. He looked at it, then chucked it onto his bed and began tidying up his room, putting off the task.

Of course he hadn't meant it to happen. They'd met in a chatroom about 6 weeks before, and began chatting regularly – under false names of course. The more they chatted, the more they found they had in common. And when they found out that they both lived in South Park, of course they had to meet. Kyle smiled as he remembered that day, putting on his best (cleanest) T-shirt and jeans, trying in vain to tame his wild red curls. He'd been so excited. Finally, a girl that didn't just want him for his brain.

Then they'd met and things had gotten…complicated. Kyle knew he should've stopped it then and there, but he just couldn't. Neither of them could.

He sighed and snatched up the cellphone. Dialled her number. Waited to hear her gorgeous voice.

"Hey, it's me…yeah, I know I sound funny, I got into a little fight with Stan…yeah, I'm OK…yeah so's he…guess why…I know, I hate this too, but what can we do? You didn't see him tonight – I-I've never seen him like that before – that's why we can't tell anyone, OK? I know it's hard, but we can't…I know, it makes me feel like crap too, but what choice have we got? We just have to keep quiet for a little while longer…Listen, are we still on for tomorrow?...Cool, what time?...8.00 it is…yeah, I know. Go around back."

Kyle shut his eyes for a moment. How could something as beautiful as love make you feel so guilty?

"It won't be forever, I promise," he said quietly. "I love you too…

"Bye Wendy."

**I know, the ant joke's rubbish. I blame the author. Anyway, bad jokes aside, please review!**


End file.
